I write about Stuff

Colossians 1:19–20 (NLT) “For God in all his fullness was pleased to live in Christ, and through him God reconciled everything to himself. He made peace with everything in heaven and on earth by means of Christ’s blood on the cross.”

This morning, as I sat by the Christmas tree with a mug of coffee, I found myself thinking about how easy it is to get swept up in the sparkle of the season. The lights twinkle, the carols play, and yet beneath it all there’s a reminder that Christmas is not just about warmth and cheer—it’s about a deeper battle that has already been won. Peter’s words echo in my mind: “Stay alert! Watch out for your great enemy, the devil. He prowls around like a roaring lion…” (1 Peter 5:8 NLT).

I remember last year, right before Christmas, when everything seemed to go wrong at once—family tensions, unexpected bills, even a bout of illness. It felt like the joy of the season was under attack. Looking back, I realize those moments were reminders that the enemy doesn’t take holidays off. But even in the middle of that chaos, Christ’s peace was present.

Christmas is a season of giving, hope, and joy, but it’s also a season that points us to the reason Jesus came. The cradle was always leading to the cross. Red has become my favorite color at Christmas—not because of wrapping paper or Santa’s suit, but because it reminds me of the blood of Christ. His sacrifice is the reason I can sit here today with hope, knowing that eternal life is possible for all who believe.

I think about how the battle still plays out in our culture. Just yesterday, I overheard a conversation in a shop where someone dismissed faith as “old-fashioned.” It stung a little, but it reminded me of Genesis 3:15, where God spoke of the hostility between the serpent and the woman’s offspring. That ancient struggle is still alive, but so is the promise that Christ would crush the serpent’s head.

The Incarnation wasn’t just a sweet story of a baby in a manger—it was God’s plan for atonement. The birth of Jesus carried within it the shadow of the cross, and the cross carried within it the promise of resurrection. That’s the dividing line between light and darkness, good and evil.

I’ve noticed that sometimes people resist the light. A friend once told me she avoids church at Christmas because it makes her feel “exposed.” I think that’s what John meant when he said some prefer the darkness. Christ’s arrival illuminated everything, and not everyone welcomes that.

But here’s the hope I cling to: through conflict, peace is born. When others push back against the light, it’s not really about me—it’s about the stirring of their own hearts. My role is simply to stand firm, to pray, and to keep pointing toward Jesus. I pray that those who resist will one day pause, consider their souls, and turn to Him.

What a gift that would be. Greater than any present under the tree, greater than any tradition. A life transformed by Christ—that’s the true miracle of Christmas.